X Marks the Spot
by InSilva
Summary: Challenge fic! Set post-O13. Being asked to help a friend is nothing new for Danny and Rusty. And it’s not like the person asking them to help actually has to be a friend. One-shot.


X Marks the Spot by InSilva

Disclaimer: I own no Ocean's characters. Just playing in the playground.

Summary: Challenge fic! Set post-O13. Being asked to help a friend is nothing new for Danny and Rusty. And it's not like the person asking them to help actually has to be a friend. One-shot.

A/N: words used from the challenge on the forum:

Shadow Nashira: **fleeting**,** meld**, **poetry **

Jusmine: **bizarre**, **perfection**

Zsully anti-nostalgic: **shovel**, **alarm clock**, **sheet**, **precarious**

otherhawk: **pirated**, **mirage, treacle**

webbswoman: **constrict**

alocine: **opera,** **orang-utan, oyster crackers**

Alice: **goddess**

Me: **entrance**

* * *

Right. This was an embarrassing situation. Possibly a precarious one. Maybe he would even go so far as to describe it as a predicament and predicaments were hateful. Far too messy. Best to avoid them. He studied the equipment in front of him and read the note again.

"_Good for one message."_

He sighed. One message. Bloody arrogant on the one hand and on the other, fair play. Terribly British. Almost made him nostalgic for boarding school and playing the game and cold showers and cross country runs and treacle tart and spotted dick and lumpy custard- God, no. He'd hated the place.

With another sigh, he looked again at the table and the electronics and he thought hard. Messages would be monitored. Anything he sent out would be looked at and inspected and pulled to pieces so there could be no freedom of expression. This meant words had to be carefully chosen and meaning would have to be hidden and layered.

This would constrict the list of recipients of his communication to one. And asking for help from _him _was not only a bizarre concept, it was an odious one. He sighed for the third time and swallowed his pride and got on with it.

* * *

Livingston had set up the meet.

"You any the wiser?"

"No. Phoned Livingston back but he wasn't making any more sense. Got the impression he doesn't know any more details than he gave us."

Danny nodded. "Why go through Livingston? Mutual acquaintance?

Rusty shrugged. "Guess so."

"We even know what he looks like?"

"I suggested we wear red carnations but apparently he told Livingston he'd find us."

"We that conspicuous?" Danny asked then glanced at today's shirt: an interesting explosion in silver. "Don't answer that."

The New York hotel lobby was busy and they were in seats with a good view of people walking through and that offered people a good view of them. And no one was approaching them; no one even looked like they were looking.

"Is he late?"

Rusty checked his watch. "Not yet. Give him another ten seconds and-"

A shadow fell across them and they looked up at the tall, thin blond man with dark rimmed glasses.

"Hallo? Danny Ocean? Rusty Ryan?" They each nodded at their name. "Greco Montgomery. And for your information, my timing is immaculate. Shall we go into the restaurant? I've booked a table."

He walked away and they looked at each other.

_Guess we should do as the man says._

_It is dinnertime. It would be rude not to._

_He is a pompous bastard, though, right? It's not just me._

Rusty grinned.

_No, it's not just you._

* * *

Greco Montgomery showed every sign of continuing to be a pompous bastard over the meal.

"I want you to know that I am here under extreme duress. I am well aware of the stunt you pulled at the Bank. The order sheet for the Greco Player Tracker has been less than full. I hold you two personally responsible for my lack of earnings."

"Well," Danny began, "I guess we-"

"-aren't that sorry," Rusty finished with a lazy smile.

Greco's eyes narrowed. "No. I don't suppose you are."

"Why are you here, Greco?" Danny asked.

"More to the point, why are we here?"

Greco pursed his lips and then with seeming reluctance, said, "Roman Nagel."

"Roman?" Danny frowned. "What about him?"

The wine waiter interrupted with Greco's choice of red and poured a small amount for him to taste.

"This is the '73? You're sure?" Greco pulled the bottle from the waiter's hand. "Idiot! This is '79! A far inferior vintage."

The waiter scuttled away and Greco leaned forward across the table.

"Roman's in trouble," he said and there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in there that set Danny's teeth on edge.

Rusty was more direct. "You sound happy about that."

"Oh, it's not that he's in trouble. I just find it amusing that he had to come to me. He would hate to do that."

The wine waiter returned and waited obsequiously for Greco to pass judgment.

"Perfection! You may pour."

When they were alone again, Danny brought the discussion back to the matter in hand.

"Tell us."

"Roman is, as you are aware, an electronics mastermind. Definitely in my league. When we were at school together, we egged each other on, pushed each other further and harder. When we left school, things carried on that way but from a distance." Greco shrugged. "I guess we both like a little competition."

He sipped his wine and studied the glass thoughtfully.

"The rivalry continues. Even though my work is pure and legitimate and his is…"

"Seminal?" Danny suggested. "Genius?"

Rusty smiled less than nicely. "Perfection?"

"Tainted." The look of disdain on Greco's face was marked. "Anyway. There was a third pupil at our school who was skilled in such matters. A few classes below us. A boy named Xander Lewisham."

"Xander?" Rusty blinked.

"Xander. Goes by the name of X."

Danny made a small choking noise. "Went down the wrong way," he managed, waving the wine glass.

Their three steaks arrived before Greco could comment.

"Xander," Rusty prompted, his voice completely serious, adding without looking anywhere near Danny, "X."

"Yes. Fancies himself as a bit of a whiz kid. He's not incapable," Greco admitted grudgingly. "I've seen some of his theories and they hold water. And his lecture to the Royal Society was passable. Mind you, he's sold out and made his name in the electronic gaming industry but he's in demand by MI5 and MI6 for research work."

"James Bond?" Rusty chewed meat, interested.

"All these little spy gadgets," Greco rolled his eyes. "That's why he calls himself 'X'. Ridiculous affectation."

"What's this got to do with Roman?" Danny wanted to know.

"Xander's been naughty. He's built a new toy for the Secret Services to play with. Some sort of hologrammatic technology involved. And he's using pirated software to make it work."

"The IPR belongs to Roman?" Rusty guessed and Greco nodded and Danny busied himself slicing steak.

"Intellectual Property Rights," Rusty said to no one.

"That's right," Greco agreed and frowned as if he wanted to say something. Then he shrugged and continued, "Roman is within his rights to sue or at the very least to make a scene and expose Xander and Xander knows it. So it seems as if he's doing his best to encourage Roman to sign away a licence."

"What sort of encouragement is he using?"

"Has him locked up in a room until he signs."

Danny exhaled slowly. This was heading all the way through soap opera towards melodrama and beyond.

"Roman sent me a coded message yesterday," Greco went on, balancing a precise forkful of steak in his hand. "A skilful little cipher directed to me but routed through substations in Eastern Europe and Central America. Seemingly innocuous. Xander wouldn't be able to read it but I was able to with ease, naturally."

"Naturally," Danny agreed dryly. "And what did it say?"

"Apart from the basics of what had happened, it advised me to seek out Damon and Pythias."

There was a pause. Eyes met.

_Anything?_

"Matt Damon?" Rusty ventured.

Greco blinked at him.

"Damon and Pythias," he said again, enunciating every syllable. "Damon and… Oh, good grief! Whatever happened to classical education? Well, how did Roman describe you two to you? 'Two Little Boys'?"

They looked at each other.

"He said we were like Morecambe and Wise," Rusty offered eventually and Greco smiled thinly.

"And you'd heard of them, right?"

Rusty's smile was wide and not that friendly and Danny quickly intervened.

"So. Xander's got Roman locked up somewhere and Roman's got a message to you to tell you to tell us."

"I guess he's looking for a rescue attempt." Greco pushed his empty plate to one side.

"I guess," Danny said mildly. "We can ask him when we find him."

"When you do, give him my regards."

"Or you could tell him yourself," Rusty suggested.

"I'm sorry?" Greco shook his head as if he'd misheard. "For one fleeting moment, I thought you were proposing I go with you. Just to be clear, that's not happening."

Danny nodded slowly. He turned to Rusty.

"Well, he has a point."

"He does."

"It's not going to be easy."

"It's _never_ easy."

"And there might be danger."

"There _could _be danger. And there's bound to be traps."

"Clever little traps."

"Traps that Xander's set up."

"Ingenious little things."

"Webs of deceit."

"And, Rus, we have to remember that Xander's already trapped Roman."

"That's right. He's bested Roman."

"So it's not surprising that Greco's afraid of- well, Greco-"

"-who's done all that Roman's asked of him-"

"-all that Roman would expect of him-"

"-he's not going to want to be the one to open the door and free Roman."

"Not what Roman would want either."

"Not going to happen anyway, Danny. Because Xander sounds like he's staked his claim to be top dog."

"Yeah."

"Enough!" Greco scowled. "You think I don't know what you're doing? I know what you're doing." There was a moment of silent fuming. "Alright. I'll help you. But only because I like the thought of Roman being beholden unto me. Added to which, if Xander has got any tricks tucked up his sleeve, they're unlikely to be dealt with by the ignorant."

_We just get insulted?_

_We just got Greco._

_True. _

"Right," said Danny. "So where's Roman?"

* * *

Roman felt like Alice down the rabbit-hole.

The room was white and bright and there was a small bathroom off. There was a bed and there was a door with no handle. And there was a table with pen and paper and the certain knowledge that release would be granted, once one was put to the other. He was being watched like a hawk. He knew it. He'd found the camera within seconds as he was supposed to and it was clear that the door would open once the agreement was signed and shown to the camera. A digital snapshot and Xander would have covered himself legally.

Food and water were taken care of. Gallons of bottled water. Stacks of cans of baked beans. And a spoon. Roman's lip curled. He was expected to shovel cold baked beans down himself. How very fucking uncivilised.

Still. He was starving. He pulled the ring back on the can and dug in morosely.

* * *

Dessert had arrived. Danny had passed but Greco sat in front of an elaborately garnished fresh fruit salad and Rusty was staring dreamily at a plate of cheesecake.

"Roman buried a trace under many layers," Greco explained, fishing out a sprig of jasmine. "I picked it up, of course. It provides a longitude and latitude reference."

"Latitude we're used to," Danny murmured, watching Rusty scoop up a layer of cream and biscuit. Somehow the spoon lingered longer in Rusty's mouth than it should do. Rusty's eyes were slits of bliss.

"He's being held somewhere on the Yorkshire Moors. Taken there a day ago." Greco frowned down at an unlucky strawberry that had met with his displeasure. "Honestly. It's hardly the season for soft fruit."

"England, then," Danny said.

"Obviously, England," Greco said, looking up and then did a double take as he saw Rusty's face. "Is he alright?"

There was the faintest "mmm" from Rusty and Greco's eyes grew wider. Danny crooked a smile.

"He has a special relationship with food."

Rusty opened his eyes slightly.

"Can you pinpoint the building?" Danny asked.

"I believe so." Greco was still staring at Rusty. "It seems straightforward enough."

"So when do we leave?"

"There's a flight out to Heathrow at 7.30 tomorrow morning," Rusty said, looking down at his almost-empty plate, his bottom lip slightly protruding.

"I'll set my alarm clock." Greco still seemed distracted.

"I'll book us some rooms." Danny stood up.

"Make them good ones," Greco instructed. "Roman's paying."

* * *

"Tell us about Xander," Rusty asked as they sat in the easy chairs in the hotel bar and sipped whisky.

Greco shrugged. "Annoyingly precocious."

"What does he think of Roman and yourself?" Danny wondered.

"Do you know I've never asked him," Greco's voice was dripping with something that was supposed to make Danny react more than give him an even smile.

"Hazard your best guess," Rusty suggested, his glass to his lips.

Greco seemed to take the question seriously. "I suppose there's an element of hero worship. A desire to impress. I remember Xander trailing round after me at school, wanting to be my fag."

There was a joint spit-take.

"Fag?" Danny repeated faintly, not sure he wanted the explanation.

"Fag," Greco said impatiently. "Younger boys who are at the beck and call of the sixth form. It's kind of a rite of passage."

_Well, that's a conversation stopper._

"Is Roman in danger?" Danny broke the silence and changed the subject.

"From Xander?" The sneer was evident. "Unlikely."

"What's Xander's motivation?" Rusty wanted to know. "Money? Glory?"

"Both." Decisive. "And he doesn't like to be thwarted."

_Who does?_

"We're not partial to being thwartable either."

"Thwartable?"

"Don't ask," Danny advised. "And don't play "Scrabble" with him either."

* * *

At breakfast, Greco had taken one look at Rusty's violently orange shirt and Danny's third cup of espresso and he'd bared his teeth as if being in their mere presence would sully him somehow. Rusty had taken it upon himself to enjoy the hot chocolate and pastries even more than usual.

Now, somewhere over the Atlantic, Danny stretched infinitesimally and Rusty, his head on Danny's shoulder, his eye mask as absurd and as Top Cat as ever, stirred. Danny glanced at Greco, sat the other side of the plane aisle, his nose buried in the financial pages.

He couldn't quite decide what the relationship was between Greco and Roman. There seemed to be grudging respect and enormous disdain on both sides and yet Roman had chosen to send the message to Greco and Greco had chosen to act on it. And then this Xander Lewisham. Xander. X. Who sounded like he was living out more than one fantasy and who didn't seem to think false imprisonment was that much of a crime. Funny, how consequences didn't seem to occur to some people.

Smiling, the stewardess walked down the aisle towards him, her eyes fixed on Rusty as if he were a mirage that might disappear sometime soon.

"Is he alright?" she mouthed.

Danny grinned at the everstrong Rustyappeal. _Stewardess, goddess, croupier, spy… _

"He's fine," he whispered back at her and Rusty muttered something that sounded mostly unintelligible and vaguely obscene and licked his lips.

The woman's mouth formed an "O" and she backed away.

* * *

They landed in London in the early evening and with unspoken agreement, Danny and Rusty headed to the car rental desk. Somehow they had the feeling that borrowing transport in Greco's company would prove more trouble than it was worth.

"Why does he get to drive?" Greco wanted to know as Rusty slid behind the wheel.

"Short answer is that he's just slept for nearly seven hours," Danny said pleasantly.

"Long answer is that I always drive," Rusty informed him. "Where are we headed?"

With a face full of deep misgivings, Greco reached over and punched a destination into the built-in sat nav.

* * *

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Roman inspected the wrong side of the door. It hadn't become any easier to open however often he scowled at it. Well, there was more than one way to get out of here and there was more than one way to pass the time until he did and when he did, there was certainly more than one way to remind Xander that this was out of order.

Walking back over to the table, he picked up the pen and mused for a moment. He needed to work this out.

* * *

Sprawled on the back seat, Greco came swimming back up to consciousness. It was dark outside and the car was moving and it took him a moment to get his bearings and the conversation coming from the front seats didn't help.

"I am not anti-simian. There weren't any monkeys."

"There weren't any monkeys? Of course, there were monkeys."

Patient. "No, there weren't."

"What about Dr Zaius?"

"Dr Zaius was an orang-utan."

"An orang-utan isn't a monkey?"

"An orang-utan is an ape. There's a clue in the title."

A pause. Then, "When did you get so clued up?"

"Ah, you're sulking." Serene and satisfied. "That means you know I'm right."

"Sulking? When I have the reigning Olympic gold medallist in the car with me? Like I would-

"-oh, you'd dare. If only to show me how-"

"-as if you would ever take any-"

"-I take notice of you!" Indignant. Then muttered. "Don't necessarily do anything about it-"

"-and that's your loss-"

"-you think you save me from unfortunate decisions-?"

"-I _know_ I do. I am Rusty's little voice of reason-"

"-thank you, Edward Norton. Where were you when I had dinner at that restaurant in Montreal?"

"You want to trust to the waiter's recommendations-"

"-it was a complicated menu and I was suffering from low blood sugar-"

A disbelieving snort.

"I was! You _know _I don't think straight when I haven't been eating-"

"-and that's why-"

"- that's the _only_ reason why I ended up with oyster-"

"Crackers! The pair of you!" Greco could bear it no longer. "Do you ever make sense? Watch the road!"

The last as both Rusty and Danny turned to look at him. The panic in his voice must have been enough to convince them that they ought to do something about it. They threw half a glance at each other and turned back round and there was a moment's silence as they weren't hit by the truck.

* * *

They stopped at a motorway service station for a meal. Greco's lip wrinkled with distaste as Rusty returned to the table with a trayful of fast food and deposited a burger and shake in front of him.

"Hardly haute cuisine," he muttered, biting into the burger nonetheless.

Rusty dipped fries into tomato ketchup and munched them defiantly. Danny sipped the Coke, amusement showing as Rusty licked the grease and sauce off his fingers and Greco stared: the snake and the mongoose.

"So what do you think Xander will have waiting for us?" Danny said to break the spell.

Greco blinked and then shrugged.

"Hard to say. He was an insufferable little brat. I doubt that's changed."

"We got any way to contact Roman?" Rusty asked and Danny was almost certain he knew about the juice from the burger making its slow trickling progress down his chin.

"No," Greco said shortly.

"Uh huh." Rusty's finger had picked up the juice and he was sucking it from his fingertip. Danny took another drink to hide the smile. Oh, he knew what he was doing alright.

"Xander must know that Roman is not the best person to cross," Danny ventured.

Greco turned grateful eyes on him. "He ought to. Unfortunately, Xander is not blessed with a humble personality. He has an arrogant belief in his own invulnerability."

_As opposed to just arrogance…?_

"Super X," Rusty suggested. "Complete with cape."

Danny smiled. "Sounds more like a cleaning product."

* * *

The early hours of the following morning saw them standing in front of a flat roofed building, studying the entrance by flashlight.

"Looks innocent enough," Danny commented.

"Easy to look innocent," Rusty reminded him.

"Trust nothing," Greco said firmly. "Xander will have the place wired."

"If that's true-"

"-than he knows we're here already." Danny finished, playing the light over the front and picking out the little electronic panel with the inviting red button marked _"Press me" _and the red light that was flashing at them.

Greco looked unhappy. "Yes. He probably does."

Danny moved forward and frowned down at the panel. Before Rusty or Greco could say anything or stop him, he pushed the red button and a little keyboard emerged.

"Imbecile!" Greco roared.

"Danny!" And it was hissed but the word "idiot" was in there loud and clear.

"It's undoubtedly isomorphic," Greco's eyes blazed.

_Iso-_

"Means it recognises your touch," Rusty translated.

_Rather like-_

"_Only_ your touch," Rusty emphasised.

_Ahhhh…_

_Exactly._

_You're not pleased with me. I'm sensing this._

Rusty grimaced and shook his head.

Greco squinted at the panel. "It'll be looking for a password."

"What do you reckon?" Rusty asked him.

Greco sighed. "Well, if I'd been able to get a closer look before we were committed…"

"It could be anything?" Rusty frowned.

"It could be," Greco agreed.

"Based on Xander's personality?"

"Based on-" Greco broke off and stared at Danny in horror as he reached out and tapped the keyboard with a single keystroke. "What are you…?"

The door swung open.

_What…?_

Danny grinned at both of them. "X. X marks the spot."

Rusty gave a low groan.

They stepped in to a corridor and lights flickered on.

"Looks like we're welcome," said Danny.

* * *

Roman was deep in thought. Absentmindedly, he dug his spoon into the beans and mused. Because really, this was simple chaos theory. If a butterfly flapped its wings, Armageddon should ensue.

He ate the beans and symbols ran through his brain and he nodded to himself. There was a way. There was always a way.

* * *

"What is this place?" Danny asked after they'd walked down what seemed to be a mile of windowless, doorless corridor.

"Disused hospital?" Rusty suggested.

"More likely a disused government admin building," Greco corrected. He leaned forward confidentially. "I heard on the grapevine that Xander's final term papers at Cambridge were borderline 2:1 until he was left alone in his tutor's study with only a password protected computer for company. I doubt he considers misappropriating property a crime."

_And that would be bad because…?_

Any answer Danny might make was cut off as they turned a corner and found the door. The door with the panel and the keyboard and the screen with the message blinking:

"_Congratulations! Please hit the space bar to continue."_

Greco cleared his throat. "You remember that I said it was unlikely that there was any danger..."

Rusty had already seen the wires. He swore. Freely and vividly and silently.

"Guess we…" Danny reached and hit the space bar before either could stop him.

Greco stared at him in disbelief. "You are beyond words."

_Not that I want to agree with him, but…_

"We got a question and a clock. Rus, the clock's ticking…"

Rusty read over his shoulder.

"_Question time. You have an hour. And don't take too long to make your mind up. You don't get a second chance. Let's get started. __Which word is always spelt inaccurately?"_

"Inaccurately," he said.

"I can read."

"No, "inaccurately". That's the answer."

_Oh…_

Danny typed and Rusty turned to Greco.

"Any chance we can do anything about this?"

Greco contemplated the door.

"It's possible." He pushed his spectacles further up his nose and started to trace the wiring.

"Next question," Danny said. _"Who's missing? Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt…"_

"Lincoln. Mount Rushmore. How we doing, Greco?"

"Explosives embedded in the door and ceiling. Probably set to trigger at a wrong answer or a late answer. Bloody gamesplayer."

"_No one expects this."_

"What?" Rusty's attention was back with Danny but Danny was already typing.

"The Spanish Inquisition," he muttered out the side of his mouth. "Man's a Python fan."

Rusty looked back at Greco, lost in thought.

"You thinking of bailing?" he asked suddenly.

Greco's chin went up. "Montgomerys do not run away."

Danny's eyes caught Rusty's.

_Pompous but with backbone._

_Good._

* * *

It was later and the questions had come thick and fast even as Rusty and Greco worked round Danny, gently exposing wires under plaster.

"George Lazenby," Danny said just before Rusty could. "How many more do you reckon?"

"Who can tell?" Rusty panted as his fingers lifted a fragile control box out of the wall. "And we'll probably get to the end and the damn thing'll blow up anyway."

"No." Greco sounded positive. "Xander plays to a code. It just wouldn't be cricket."

"_England's hopes lie in Ashes thanks to…"_

"Huh. How appropriate. Australia," Greco supplied.

"Is Xander the sort who likes round numbers?" Rusty wanted to know. "Because that was question 49."

"It's possible. And the green wire, I believe."

"Yeah." Rusty checked the clock with fifty seconds on it and pulled out the sharp-bladed tool he carried and prepared to cut the wire. "What's the question?"

"What's TB stand for?"

"That's the question? Tuberculosis," Rusty said at the same time as Greco said "Terabyte".

"_Ten times ten times ten times ten times ten times ten TB," _Danny read. "Huh." He typed.

"Wait," Rusty said. "That made sense to you?"

"Exabyte," Danny shrugged.

_I listen._

The clock stopped and Rusty carefully let go of the control box.

"_Well done!"_ flashed the message on the screen.

Danny looked at the door. Nothing happened. No clicking sound, no swinging open, nothing. He looked at Rusty and Rusty looked at him. Greco pushed the door and it gave. The three of them shrugged.

"Roman Nagel, I believe," Greco said grandly, stepping over the threshold. "What _is_ that smell?" he added bathetically, stopping short.

Roman swung round from the wall. "I defy you to be locked up in a room with nothing to eat but baked beans without consequences." He looked at Greco sourly and sighed. "Inevitable you should come, I suppose."

"You doing alright, Roman?" Rusty asked, as he and Danny followed Greco curiously into the room.

"Fine, Rusty, thank you for asking. And thank you for the rescue, unnecessary though it is."

"_Unnecessary?" _Greco's eyebrows shot up.

"I signed the agreement," Roman said with a wave of his hand at the paper lying on the table. "I've shown it to Xander who is undoubtedly hotfooting it off to set up a meeting to show off his new invention. The door was open ages ago."

"_Ages_ ago?"

Roman gave Greco a look. "Why do you feel the need to repeat what I'm saying? It's flattering that you're hanging on my every word but I never had you marked down as a sycophant."

"_Syco-"_ Greco nearly exploded. "We have just spent an hour trying to save your miserable…" He tailed off and stared at the wall. "What is this?"

The wall was finger-painted with the tomato sauce from cans of baked beans. Danny and Rusty sauntered over, hands in pockets and stood trying to make sense of the marks.

_Do you think…_

_Pressure can affect people in many different ways…_

"You signed what Xander wanted you to sign?" Danny said slowly, cutting to the chase.

"Why would you?" Rusty asked softly.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously I couldn't take being locked up any longer," he said in a voice that was less than sincere.

Beside him, Greco had whipped off his glasses and was scanning what was written.

"Oh…oh…" he said, blinking.

"Finally," Roman said with satisfaction.

"But this-"

"-inserted-"

"-concealed-"

"-dormant-"

"-so effective!" Greco nodded approvingly. "It's poetry!"

Danny squinted hard at the tomato sauce covering the white wall and then at Rusty who shrugged, equally bemused.

_Don't know about poetry._

_Modern art, maybe. _

"I'm just debating…" Roman's arms were crossed and his head was on one side.

Greco dipped a finger in an open can of baked beans and reached over and drew two intersecting lines and a diagonal and the letter "Y".

_Y?_

"I have no idea," Rusty said in Danny's ear.

"Ahhh…" Roman exhaled in agreement. "Of course."

Greco beamed at him and then frowned. "How are you going to get this out of here?"

Roman frowned back at him. "Details, details…" He glanced over at Rusty. "Hmm. Be aware of the Greco and the gifts he brings," he muttered. "Well? You're the details man."

* * *

"A formula?" Danny said later when they were on their own in the suite of a London hotel.

"Yeah." Rusty stretched out on the bed, bathrobe around him, fluffy slippers on his feet. He had the contents of a discarded carrier bag around him and was busy investigating the range of chocolate bars he had purchased.

"A math formula? Like with Venn diagrams and algebra?"

Rusty stopped halfway towards biting into the Flake. "Software formula."

"And you memorised it?"

"Yes."

"And they're going to use it to-"

"Yes." With impatience.

"They're working together…"

"They are." There was a pointed look thrown in Danny's direction.

_What?_

_You're interrupting._

"Sorry," Danny said as the Flake disappeared into Rusty's mouth. He watched for a moment and then mentally made an addition to the list of food that Rusty shouldn't eat in public.

* * *

Xander stood in front of his keyboard and monitor and beamed. Widely. He had an audience of top Secret Service officials and he was centre stage. What was not to love?

"So, gentlemen, here she is. I call her The Shapeshifter."

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the covers off the Ducati. _Why a Ducati?_ the minion assigned to assist him had asked. _Why not?_ he'd challenged and said minion had bowed their head and done his bidding.

"This technology is applicable to any and every tool, gadget or vehicle. A simple scan of the object…" He set the preprogrammed sequence in motion and green lasers whipped down and round the motorcycle, building up a 3D model on his screen.

"There are tiny electronic mirrors placed in key positions on the Ducati and now…" Xander paused for effect. "I just hit this button here…"

The Ducati disappeared and there was a satisfying round of gasps and awe.

"Absorbing the light and reading the background and reflecting it back." Laymen's terms for the untechnical. "Cloaking devices no longer belong in science fiction," he told them. "Behold the future."

He was staring out at the sea of faces and he was ready to bow and accept the applause but something was wrong. The faces were frowning and…and…laughing…?

Xander span round on his heel. There was a Ducati shape with text flowing over it.

"_Now you see it…." _Xander read. "_Actually, now you see it."_

Some mistake. Some calculation gone wrong. He hurtled back to the keyboard and punched in diagnostics, all the time ignoring the voice screaming at him inside that he had been outfoxed.

* * *

From somewhere in an upper gallery with ID that proclaimed them to be senior civil servants, Roman and Greco watched with interest as the officials stood and waved away Xander's protests as they left the room.

"Well, that is without doubt in my top ten ways of spending a Thursday morning," Roman suggested. He looked over at Greco. "Thank you. I suppose."

Greco's smile was immediate. "I should think so."

The smugness was all things unbearable.

"What did you think of Danny and Rusty?"

The smile disappeared.

"The insane inane conversations? That Vulcan mind meld thing they have going on? And the one of them who is possibly one of the least technically aware people I've ever met and the other, the dandy who belongs in the Nash era with the _clothes, _and the _food_ noises_…"_

Roman smiled to himself. Nothing like preemptive punishment.

* * *

A/N: Damon and Pythias is an allusion that bugged me for months before I finally tracked it down with a crazed "AHAHAHAHA!" as those who witnessed it can testify.

I really had fun writing and hope you enjoyed reading. And perhaps we should do this again sometime. ;)


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